


Attached

by runsoftbin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, IwaOi as Bestfriends, M/M, Slight!Kuroo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-13 10:46:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7973992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runsoftbin/pseuds/runsoftbin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oikawa Tooru thought getting attached was a bad thing. Ushijima Wakatoshi thought the same. But the world is always out of their control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because two broken person would never make a happy ending.

The first thing that Ushijima knew from Oikawa Tooru that he was a pill popper. He didn’t eat. Oikawa said every model back there in Japan were like him. Oikawa took the pill every once in a while, sometimes with water but that was all. Most of the time he looked just like someone who had drowned; lost and confuse. Most of the time he still felt the need of sticking his fingers down his throat to completely emptied his stomach. But Oikawa could take bottles of alcohol and packs of cigarettes also one full night of fucking. That was all Ushijima needed from him.

Oikawa tasted like ash, his dark lips were cold and Ushijima didn’t mind it. The fact was Ushijima liked how Oikawa lazily moved his lips on his; sometimes he was too drunk to even move the other parts of his body. Oikawa always had a strong grip on Ushijima’s thick black hair when they kissed, sometimes he panted too hard that Ushijima thought he had asthma attack. Ushijima liked it rough and Oikawa gladly took all of it. Oikawa usually had so little energy to keep up with the animal Ushijima Wakatoshi, he didn’t even realize he had passed out many times when they fucked.

Ushijima remembered the sound of Oikawa’s laughter when he’s high; it was like ringing bells—although he’s not sure whether it was just his drug-contaminated brain was playing tricks on him. People said Oikawa used to be beautiful, and Ushijima had seen it himself. Even when he was spent, Oikawa was still breathtaking. Ushijima liked beautiful people, even when they were tainted with unwashable stain, the beauty lingered.

Out of everything, Ushijima liked Oikawa’s voice the most. Not just when he whispered ‘harder’ or ‘Ushijima’ when he was breathless but also when he complained about things. Even the idea of liking such a wreck was silly to Ushijima; because Oikawa said there was nothing left in him to like. If only Ushijima was sober most of the time, he would have told Oikawa that it was wrong. Ushijima could like him with every little ounce of darkness and dirt in him, not to mention his ability to give the best head in human history. Ushijima Wakatoshi might not sober all the time, but… he didn’t have to be sober in order to feel the tug on his heart every time Oikawa unconsciously said ‘I love you’s.

But it was Oikawa Tooru—he forgot most of the things he said when he’s drunk.

And Ushijima didn’t mind it.

Oikawa panted so hard when Ushijima covered his spent body with a thin blanket. Ushijima took out a cigar and lit it until its peak turned angry red. Oikawa had a hard time recovering from orgasms, it took almost all of his energy and usually Ushijima would let him sleep for awhile after every encounter. But this time, Oikawa didn’t.

“Ushiwaka-chan you broke me.” He said, more like a whisper but Ushijima didn’t fail to catch it.

“You already are.” Ushijima said, looking at the smoke he exhaled to the air.

Ushijima heard a soft giggle, it sounded almost creepy but sad at the same time. “Ah, you are right.” He said, closing his eyes. “I am so hungry. Crazy that the pills don’t work on me anymore. What should I do then?”

Ushijima looked at him, almost pitied the younger boy but he put that thought aside.

“Then eat,” he said, flicking his cigarette to let the ashes fall, “you look dying.”

Oikawa sighed. Maybe dying was not a bad idea afterall. His idea of dying was darkness; black and dangerous. It must be lonely because no sounds would be heard as well. It sounds like Oikawa’s life itself, but there were no times to get high and see colors anymore. Sometimes, Oikawa liked colors. People said rainbow has many colors, but strange that Oikawa didn’t remember to ever saw any of them. Were rainbows not supposed to be seen by people like him? He wasn’t sure. But one of his friend back then said, the rainbow looked just like what he saw when he was high; full of blurred lights that spreaded into many shades of colors. It looked nice, but someday Oikawa still wanted to see the real one.

“Ushiwaka-chan,” Oikawa called, Ushijima was silent but he listened, “go order pizza and let’s fuck some more.”

“I’ll order pizza but you need rest.” Ushijima grabbed his phone and dialed the delivery number. Oikawa was all about getting high and sex. But Ushijima was somehow glad that he decided to initiate ordering pizza.

“Are you concerning about me right now?” Oikawa rose up to sit on the messy bed, “I need to be fucked.”

“Believe me I don’t enjoy fucking a lifeless body. You passed out too often, it’s turning me off.”

Oikawa smiled slyly and then he threw himself to Ushijima. The bigger boy catch him before he fell from the bed and he immediately landed open mouth kisses on Ushijima’s neck that had been painted with hickeys from the night before. Ushijima was still holding his phone to order pizza, and just when he was about to end the call, it was answered.

“H-hello,” Ushijima hissed when Oikawa shamelessly grabbed his bare cock, he mouthed curse words when Oikawa lowered himself and without warning engulfing his manhood until it gets harder by the second. Ushijima ordered anyway, but he didn’t even sure he said the right address. He threw his phone away and fisted Oikawa’s hair, roughly pulling it up but pushing it down again with force. Ushijima could hear Oikawa giggling when he felt his wanted response, and enjoy the rest of what he’d started.  
.  
.  
.  
Oikawa noticed how Ushijima looked at him when he took his first bite. He chewed slowly, trying to taste the food with his numb tongue. Ushijima also took one bite, laughing slightly when he saw Oikawa crinkling his face in discomfort.

“Tastes like a sin.” Oikawa said, but he continued chewing anyway. He had to take a big gulp of coke to help him swallow the pizza in his mouth.

“Funny that you swallow drugs and cums like they were fruits from heaven,” Ushijima took one of his book on his the bedside table, although his apartment is one hell of a big mess, he always kept the book near him. He opened a certain page and took a pen, ready to write again.

The first time Oikawa saw Ushijima, was when he sat under a big tree beside Oikawa’s faculty, writing something and once awhile his mouth moved to read what he wrote. Ushijima looked very serious, but at the same time very attractive. Oikawa didn’t know him back then, he never seen Ushijima in his faculty before. Few days later he figured that Ushijima was a regular player of his university’s volleyball team. No wonder, his strength, his biceps, his thigh... surely something to die for.

Oikawa heard Ushijima came from a great family—he was the son of Japan’s legendary volleyball player, with two older siblings were also gold medal winners of olympic. Ushijima was a stressful kid, who had a full pressure of being perfect just like the rest of his family. But someday, the pressure got too much for his young soul to handle, that he ran away from home and cut ties with his family.

Funny that Oikawa was so impressed of what Ushijima had done. Ushijima was a brave boy, something Oikawa desperately wanted to be.

Because Oikawa was a coward, who left a big mess behind and try to start a whole new life in a new place. Of course it didn’t turn out good. He moved to Korea to pursue his modeling career, leaving his college life in a mess. He had received a well popularity in Korea for awhile, until he discovered model’s secret of keeping their body. That was when he started to eat less and less. At first it was tough, he became weak until got hospitalized. Then one of his friends introduced him to this one pill that kept him full until he didn’t have to eat anything. Eventually his addiction became stronger, that he also knew drugs and alcohol. Oikawa’s life was a wreck, until one day he nearly overdosed. That’s when people send him back to Japan.

Oikawa always felt trapped, his life and mind was a big mess. His parents disowned him a long time ago and he failed to care. When his life was near the end, he met Ushijima again. Ushijima was still playing volleyball, and they met at one fateful day when Ushijima played against Iwaizumi—the only friend Oikawa actually have. The Ushijima Wakatoshi who jumped and spiked that day had wings—he looked strong and free. That sight strangely made Oikawa smiled. Ushijima was full of life, although they were almost as dark, but Ushijima had hope. Oikawa didn’t.

Oikawa ran to the toilet, hugging the toilet bowl close to his body when he puked his guts out. His body trembled, his throat burned. He desperately wanted to keep the food down his stomach but that time it voluntarily came out. His stomach had refused the foods. Even when he wanted to get better, his body didn’t allow him.

“Don’t forget to breath,” he heard Ushijima said from afar. He flushed the toilet, sitting there to calm his stomach down. Oikawa felt the cold sweat covering his body, he was shivering. He had never been so hungry in his life—stopping the pills made him sick, he was never brave before, but at that moment he was with Ushijima. He felt encouraged although Ushijima didn’t do anything at all.

When Oikawa opened his eyes, he saw Ushijima holding another slice of pizza and a bottle of mineral water in front of him. Oikawa stared at him like he was a crazy idiot, but Ushijima didn’t go back.

“Good start. Now try again.” He said, trying to feed him the pizza. Oikawa mentally cursed him, but he opened his mouth anyway.

“What kind of friend are you, trying to make me puke again.” Oikawa said when he was chewing slowly. Ushijima chuckled. Oikawa drew a thin smile, fully aware that they were still in the bathroom and also because he just called Ushijima a ‘friend’.

“What kind of human are you, cannot do the very basic thing for living.” Oikawa mouthed ‘fuck you’ to Ushijima, but the other boy only feed him some more.

Just a few minutes after Oikawa swallowed, he crouched down to puke again. He tried again but puked again. That was when a frustrated cry slipped out his mouth. He trembled so hard that Ushijima had to hold him in order to keep him from falling.

“I wanted to die so bad but I don’t know why I keep on trying to live.” Oikawa mumbled weakly to Ushijima’s neck. Ushijima hugged him and Oikawa was glad to be able to feel the warmness creeped onto his tattered body.

Ushijima said nothing. Oikawa didn’t want to hear anything, though, he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep for a long time. Ushijima wasn’t designed to say sweet words, it wasn’t like he was obliged to say comforting things to Oikawa too. They were fuck buddies. They had fun. Sometimes they drunk, and sometimes they get high—although Ushijima was always the one who was sober enough to walk home from the club.

Fuck buddies don’t get attached. Oikawa and Ushijima had drawn that line since the first time they met, and they both knew that.  
.  
.  
.  
Ushijima knocked Oikawa’s apartment’s door few times, but there were no answer. Ushijima always felt the obligation to make sure that the boy hadn’t kill himself yet, that’s why unopened doors and unanswered calls sent worry to his system. It had been five days Oikawa hadn’t come to his apartment and he never stay away from Ushijima for that long.

Ushijima knocked harder and thankfully minutes after that, Oikawa stood in front of the door, opening it so little as the sign for Ushijima not to come in. Ushijima raised his left eyebrow, questioning the messy boy in front of him. Oikawa looked at him with lidded eyes, he looked tired but somehow his face flushed red and Ushijima immediately knew it only means one thing.

“I’ve got company.” Oikawa said. Ushijima clicked his tongue, feeling annoyed.

“I thought you stop whoring around.” Ushijima said in the mixture of anger and disappointment. Oikawa just stood there looking at him, noticing his clenched jaw and darkened voice. Oikawa smirked, but Ushijima still looked at him like an eagle watching for its prey.

“I needed this.” Oikawa said, mirroring Ushijima’s stare like he wasn’t afraid at all.

“I thought you had gotten better.” Ushijima unconsciously clenched his fists, he was trying to breath calmly in order to stop him from grabbing Oikawa neck right at that moment.

“I did,” Oikawa was still calm, and Ushijima hated that. “I was just—“

“You fucking cut yourself?!” Ushijima grabbed Oikawa’s right hand that he lifted to finger-combed his hair. Ushijima pulled it towards him, mentally counting the red marks that looked it had been there for days.

Oikawa pulled his hand quickly, he Ushijima could hear a hiss coming from Oikawa’s lips after his rough hand made contact with Oikawa’s wounded skin.

“It’s not your problem.” Oikawa was about to close the door when Ushijima barged in forcefully, sending Oikawa hardly to the floor. Ushijima got on his knees, looking at the younger boy with eyes full of concern. Oikawa were crying, his eyes are screaming that he needed help but desperately he denied it.

Ushijima cupped Oikawa’s cheeks, trying to get the younger boy’s full attention. He stares at those lost eyes, he wanted so badly to kiss those heavy lids but he was paralyzed. Oikawa’s agony tugged him so hard on the heart—Ushijima never felt those kind of pain before. He wanted to take it away; he needed to.

“It’s too late to run away from me now.” Ushijima half growled.

“Ushijima,” Ushijima could feel the nails Oikawa dug onto his lower arm, he knew maybe Oikawa also felt the need to hurt him phisically, only to nonverbally tell how much actually he had been hurting. Ushijima thought he knew, but, “I already have a lot of pain in my system,” Oikawa’s tears fell to Ushijima’s fingers, “you are only rubbing salts onto my wounds.”

Ushijima needed seconds to digest what Oikawa wanted him to know. At first he didn’t want to give any fuck but then he saw that flash of desperate anger in Oikawa’s scared eyes. Ushijima released Oikawa’s face from his palms, the fact that it came from Oikawa’s mouth struck him like a lightening. Oikawa was a wreck and Ushijima was no different—they both knew it. Ushijima thought they helped each other to forget their pain for awhile—like drugs. They got high with each other, they fucked and forgot their pain. When they came down, they face the worst part together. When the pain came back, they got high again and fucked some more.

Ushijima thought it could lessen Oikawa’s pain. But he was wrong.

“You suck at lying,” Ushijima roughly wiped Oikawa’s tears with his plam, too rough that he’s sure that Oikawa would felt the burning on his left cheek. “Don’t fucking lie to me!”

Ushijima noticed how Oikawa shivered while staring at him like a scared cat. Oikawa wiped his cheeks again, but those forced smile on his face irritated Ushijima to the pit of his stomach.

“I knew it...,” Oikawa smiled bitterly, “You are getting attached to me, Ushiwaka-chan.”

“What a fucking nonsen—“

“Once anyone get attached, everything ends.” Oikawa replayed the promise they made at the first time they start the ambiguous relationship. Ushijima still clearly remember they said it together but back then Ushijima had no idea how much the broken boy would affect his messed up life.

“This is your end, Ushiwaka. I don’t want anyone get attached with me—fuck it, my whole life is a full wreckage. I told you you shouldn’t involve with someone like me—“

Ushijima pressed his lips hard on Oikawa’s. He bite, sucked, pressed it so hard that his own lips are bleeding. He wanted to hurt Oikawa physically, to ruin him as much as he thought his heart was—damn, Ushijima wanted to tear Oikawa apart. He grabbed the back of Oikawa’s neck and pressed their head harder; he wanted the boy to cry out in pain. But before his demon completely take over his sane thought; Ushijima pushed Oikawa to the wall.

“Don’t think so highly of yourself.”

And so, Ushijima walked out of Oikawa’s apartment after kicking the door with full strength. Just when he thought Oikawa was getting better, just when he thought that slowly he could try to be clean and drag Oikawa together. He was wrong—fuck, Ushijima was always wrong. He hated the fact that the world always ran crazily out of his control.

He wanted to save Oikawa—and maybe himself too. He felt enough of those angry yet desperate tears choke Oikawa in his sleep. He wanted to end the depression that ate Oikawa from the inside until the other boy felt the need to hurt himself just to feel human. 

But who was he kidding? If Oikawa Tooru was a wreck, Ushijima Wakatoshi was no different. They were nothing but two person who get wasted together and then fuck until the world came crumbling down to their feet. 

Because two broken person would never make a happy ending.

Ushijima hated that he was always wrong. He thought he would never be attached to such a broken person like Oikawa Tooru, but the universe always spin against his will.

Ushijima wished getting attached could mean something good, but all it brought was pain and depression.  
.  
.  
.  
Oikawa wished he could bear pain without any help of his little ‘friend’. Damn—he wished that he never had any pain to kill. But he did. He had a lot of it. And by killing it, means to numb it for a little while and then it would came crashing down to him like a tornado. It usually felt ten times worse combined with the hungover and excessive need for someone to break him from the inside.

Oikawa liked to think that exchanging his body with drugs and painkillers was his job. It was an unstable job—clearly, but when he picked the right person he could get so much more than what he needed. 

His clients were always curious about what happened to his wounded wrists—that sometime they found still bleeding. Oikawa didn’t like to say out loud that he was cutting himself, but he liked that his clients only responded with a single ‘oh’ without any further questions. 

The only one who asked further questions usually was Ushijima. Why did Oikawa do that, what if Oikawa died, where else did Oikawa cut. Ushijima sometimes was full of questions, but he could be very quiet too. When Oikawa smoked weed and get wasted but Ushijima was in no mood to do the same, Ushijima would just be quiet. When Oikawa cried to his sleep, Ushijima would also be quiet.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was an asshole, people said. Oikawa laughed when he thought about the real Ushijima he knew. Sure thing, Ushijima wasn’t sweet and obviously not the type to spill sugar from his mouth, but Ushijima was different. Oikawa once looked at his notebook—the one that filled with words that he thought were poems—and from there Oikawa could see that Ushijima was only a kid who stray too far from home. 

At one certain page of Ushijima’s book, Oikawa once read a poem about an angel. The angel was beautiful, he wrote, but it has no wings. The angel’s back was bleeding because its wings had been ripped apart—roughly, painfully. The angel couldn’t go back to where it belong. Then, the angel tried to live like a human but of course human life was tough and hard. The angel tried and tried, but all it get was pain and wounds. Ushijima wrote that he wanted to help the angel, that he wanted to paint a pair of beautiful wings on its back and pray to any God that ever existed to make the wings came true. But turns out that he was a human, and God didn’t work that way. The End.

Oikawa guessed the poem had not reach its end yet. He hoped the poem didn’t end that way.

Oikawa smiled as he sipped his black coffee at one coffee shop near his university. The weather was cold, it was raining outside. He thought about Ushijima’s angel, and shamelessly imagined that the angel was him. He was broken just like the angel, bruised and scarred. But wouldn’t it be too wrong to refer himself as an angel? 

A tap on his shoulder woke Oikawa from his daydream. He took a look at someone who was standing before him, handsome and looked rich. Kuroo Tetsurou was the one Oikawa ran to when he was short of money but he needed to numb his pain. Kuroo always had those little things he need with the exchange of his body for one night. What’s not to like about being fucked to oblivion by a drop dead gorgeous man and also getting something in return. Oikawa used to it, and he’s not planning to stop doing it either.

“You bring me what I need, right?” Oikawa asked. The man who already took a seat across him nodded, looked all excited that he’s got to spent one full night with his favorite bitch. 

“I will also reward you when you do me good.” Kuroo said, but Oikawa only smirked in return.

“Have I ever disappoint you?” he sipped his coffee again, “that’s what made you jumped to me bringing all the stuffs you got only with a single short message.”

Kuroo laughed, and Oikawa hated it. 

“I heard you hang out often with some kid,” Kuroo crossed his right leg, sitting there elegantly, “did he gave you more money or did he fuck you harder than I do?”

Oikawa looked at Kuroo’s eyes, feeling annoyed. Kuroo was always too nosy about his life but he couldn’t tell the man to just fuck off. Kuroo was his only source of money and stuffs at the moment, and as long as Kuroo still liked his body, might as well took as much advantages as he could. 

“He’s no one.” Oikawa answered, making Kuroo smiled in satisfaction. 

Oikawa always tried to empty his mind when he was brought to some hotel by some guys, he didn’t like to think about how painful it was for his body and soul. The same goes when Kuroo took him. He had enough pain in his system and sometimes he just wanted to cry over it and die. But unfortunately, death didn’t work that way. 

Often when Kuroo rammed hard into him, he would cry out loud—not because of the pain on his lower back, but the one that buried deep inside of him. At the time like that, he was crying both outside and inside, and that was when he felt like giving up so much. The worst type of crying wasn’t the kind everyone could see—the wailing or the hiccups. It happened when the soul wept and no matter what he did, there was no way to comfort it. A section withered and became a scar on a part of Oikawa’s soul that survived. 

For people like Oikawa Tooru, the soul contains more scar tissue than life.

The damage was permanent, and even though the angriest scars faded through time, his life always found new ways to dig a deeper wound than before. 

That night, Oikawa Tooru took more pills than usual to numb a greater pain than what he always felt. Kuroo’s face was blurry, even lights looked only like shades. He succeed to numb his pain, he succeed to empty his mind. 

But somewhere between the real world and his unconsciousness, Oikawa saw Ushijima’s face looking at him with concern. The Ushijima in his dream was offering a hand for him to grab, but when he was about to reach it, all images faded to black.  
.  
.  
.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ushijima would never know how to stop pains, but he could learn how to treat wounds.

Only a broken person could fix a broken person. It was the messiness and hurt in our pasts that drove us, and that same hurt connected us at a subdermal level, the kind of scars written so deeply in your cells that you can't even see them anymore, only recognize them in someone else.

And for me, I recognize them in Ushijima Wakatoshi.

 

“Ushijima.” 

Major part of Ushijima’s brain told him to just close the door and let Tooru tastes his own medicine by abandoning him without any words, but no matter how dominant that part was, the one that won against Ushijima’s body was still the part that wanted even a very little piece of the human wreckage Oikawa Tooru. He held the door open, looking at the boy who had been missing as though he had been swallowed whole to the center of the earth for more than two weeks. But at that moment, there he was. Standing casually in front of the door without awkwardness, bringing one plastic bag of what Ushijima could see as snacks and ramens. 

What made Ushijima hold the door open was not the fact that Tooru actually brought food—at least it means he wanted to eat something, and Ushijima liked it when Tooru did—but the fact that he looked all sober. Those brown hair was still messy but looked fluffy and nice. He wore broken white sweater that has no faint red marks of blood on its sleeves, with skinny jeans and clean converse. Tooru looked like human—the real definition. The bags under his eyes were still visible and his skin was still pale, but he didn’t look like zombie just like what Ushijima always see him.

“I want to eat. Please cook ramen for me?”

Ushijima still didn’t smile, didn’t show anything to encourage or discourage Tooru’s acts. He was just standing there, looking at Tooru who acted like their relationship was in the very best situation—looked like he didn’t even remember saying anything about they should never meet again; that everything has ended or Ushijima got fucking attached. God, Ushijima wished he could grab Tooru’s skinny neck right at that second because, damn, those words hurted Ushijima’s pride and he hated it. Yet, there he was. Actually opening the door signaling the younger boy to come inside as if nothing happened.

Ushijima took the ramen packs on the table—where Tooru left it to sit on his messy bed. The apartment was small enough for Ushijima to looked clearly at Tooru’s expression, even from the kitchen. Tooru sat on the edge of the bed, looking particularly at nothing. Those eyes were vacant—empty. Those brown orbs didn’t even move, heck, he didn’t even blink and it only made Ushijima even more confuse. 

The fact that Tooru looked sober and healthier was suppose to be a very good development, but those vacant eyes scared Ushijima even more than when Tooru’s pupil all dilated from drugs and alcohol. Tooru sat there, unmoving, even those eyes might be unseeing. Until Ushijima finished cooking, Tooru still hasn’t move even an inch, Ushijima could sense something wrong but he couldn’t grasp what it was.

Ushijima put the a bowl of instant ramen in front of Tooru who immediately flash a smile. He didn’t look like Tooru at all—he wasn’t smiling like that, Tooru’s smile always made his two eyes formed crescents, no matter what his condition were—sober or not, but Ushijima didn’t like this smile. 

Tooru took the chopsticks and dug his bowl, eating the ramen without saying anything. He didn’t look at Ushijima who was leaning on the wall just approximately one meter in front him. A part of Ushijima was happy by looking at the one who barely take any bite of pizza now eating without even gagging. But the other part of him told Ushijima that it wasn’t right. Tooru didn’t even looked like he was eating for himself—not to satisfy any hunger but just something he did out of his conscious mind. He looked like robot who was controlled, and Ushijima wanted to just stop him right there, but he didn’t.

Tooru ate ridiculously fast, then he put his bowl on the floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Ushijima watched carefully every inch of his movements, trying so hard to figure out what was wrong with the other boy. Tooru looked around, might be surprised because the apartment wasn’t as messy as what he remembered. It didn’t smell like smoke and cheap beers anymore, there were also no bottles or plastics contained pills or powders that they always used to get high. Ushijima’s apartment looked like a normal apartment now, he threw every junk away after Tooru told him to disappear. He was so angry at Tooru that he didn’t want him to recognize the apartment if someday he comes back. Ushijima desperately wanted to erase every trail of Tooru; his smell, his images, damn, Ushijima even wanted to erase him away from his memory. 

“I am so tired,” Tooru said, finally breaking the silence. Without waiting for any approval, he climbed on to Ushijima’s bed and snuggled himself under the cover, closing his eyes immediately. Ushijima could hear Tooru’s heavy breath, hating the fact that his brain clearly remembered how warm that breath was against his neck. 

“You have to go after you wake up.” Ushijima said coldly, grabbing the notebook on the bedside table and went to the supposed to be living room part of his apartment, then start writing again. 

Ushijima couldn’t concentrate at what he’s been writing. Usually, Tooru presence could make him thinks about so many things, so many inspirations. Only by hearing Tooru’s gibberish words in his sleep or heavy breathes when he came down from his high could inspire Ushijima verses and verses of words, but this time, nothing. 

All Ushijima wanted to do was come to Tooru and caress that pale face, yell every profanity to his face and call him with every bad words existed on earth. It wasn’t hatred; it was disappointment, sadness, hopelessness, and longing that makes Ushijima wanted to just pull Tooru and crush his bones in a tight hug. Ushijima wanted Tooru to just go if he wanted to go but the younger came back so casually that it drove Ushijima crazy. He came back with much better condition but Ushijima could sense every single thing was wrong on that little head of the pretty boy.

Ushijima hated it when he was overthinking about Tooru—damn, the boy himself didn’t even think about anything. He was so busy about his own pain that Ushijima couldn’t begin to describe, Tooru was busy pitying himself that he couldn’t keep track of what was happening around him. Tooru was clueless, but his brain was doctrined that he was a burden and he had to hurt in order to feel something. 

“The angel...,” Ushijima stopped swaying the black pen on his right hand because Tooru’s voice sounds so distant and sad, “did it get its wings back?”

Ushijima’s breath stopped for a moment. So Tooru read the absurd story Ushijima wrote about an angel who lost his wings. It was his most favorite but at the same time the words he hated so much.

“I don’t know.” Ushijima said coldly. Ushijima could see from the corner of his eyes that Tooru was looking at him with his usual curious eyes—it gets bigger and there were faint sparks on it. 

“Why don’t you know? You created it.”

“I abandoned him.”

“It was a ‘he’?”

Ushijima didn’t answer. 

Ushijima leaned his back on the single couch he was sitting on. He closed the notebook on his lap and closed his eyes too. He had been thinking about going back to his parents, to kiss his father’s two feet to beg for forgiveness if he needed to. To assure his mother that he wasn’t going to go anywhere but college, that he wouldn’t do anything but study, that he would make his father proud, he would make his two siblings acknowlege his capability. It wouldn’t be so hard to quit smoking, it’s even easier than to stop taking drugs. He wasn’t that addicted to those two poisons, anyway. 

Two weeks since Ushijima stopped seeing Tooru, two weeks Ushijima never had the need to get high. He still smoked, he got drunk, but he spent more hours in one day being sober. He wrote things, he practiced volleyball, he even made money. He didn’t even get tough time quitting drugs because he wasn’t addicted to it at the first place. 

Tooru was the one who addicted to drugs. And Ushijima was addicted to him.

Ushijima nearly jumped in surprise when he felt a hand traveled down his chest and a soft but cold body hugged him from behind. Ushijima knew Tooru had buried his face to Ushijima’s thick hair, sniffing his scent like Tooru always did when he came down from his orgasm. Ushijima wanted to yank his body out of Tooru’s hug but instead, he relaxed, leaning onto the faint warmth as much as he could receive. 

“Ushijima,”

Ushijima stayed still, he closed his eyes but he didn’t answer. Tooru wrapped his hands loosely around Ushijima’s neck, they are so close that Ushijima could feel Tooru’s heartbeat against his back. Chill ran down his spine when Tooru buried his face to the crook of his neck, kissing it without any sounds. Ushijima wanted to just escape from that captivating warmth but his body acted against his will—it scared him. It scared him how much his body wanted Tooru’s presence, his brain had lose control over his physical features, and he was sure his self restrain was wearing thin.

Ushijima could feel his neck wet from what he assumed as Tooru’s tears—the boy sobs only to prove him right. Ushijima could feel hear his own heart broke with every sobs that escape from Tooru’s thin lips, he wanted to just kiss those eyelids tenderly until he forgot the reason of his tears. When his heart took over his every acts, Ushijima lifted his right hand to reach Tooru’s head, running his fingers through those soft brown locks tenderly. 

It felt so right, so right that Ushijima felt like losing himself. He leaned his head to Tooru’s, signaling that he received all the touch that Tooru gave to wake his cold soul up. Tooru lifted his head and Ushijima looked back at him, his eyes told Ushijima that he was afraid and Ushijima got the message. Ushijima immediately kissed back when he felt Tooru’s chapped lips reached to his, hoping that the slow kiss could help to mend at least a little bit of Tooru’s invisible wounds. 

Ushijima let his instinct took over, kissing Tooru like it was the most natural thing to do on earth. He pulled Tooru closer, without breaking the kiss he managed to lead Tooru to gracefully climb on to his lap with his two legs on the side of Ushijima’s hips. The kiss turned wilder when they faced each other, when Ushijima put both of his palms to cup Tooru’s cheeks and Tooru wrapped his two hands around Ushijima’s neck. 

Ushijima wanted to savour every little ounce of Tooru’s sweetness, to feel Tooru’s every breath on his skin, and to be reminded that this was his addiction. He wasn’t addicted to drugs, he wasn’t addicted to smoke nor alcohol. It was Tooru. It was always Tooru. If he had to get high in order to wrap Tooru in his embrace, he did. If he had to be very drunk in order to hear a faint ‘I love you’s from Tooru’s lips then he did. Tooru was the drug he would never be free from. Tooru’s effect was stronger to him compared to shots and shots of illegal drugs. Tooru drove him insane—Tooru made him bad. Lost. But he didn’t want to be right. 

They were busy eating each other’s face but Ushijima snapped into reality when he realized that Tooru had cried in their kiss. Ushijima pulled out from the kiss, giving a little space between their face so he could see Tooru’s red eyes. Tooru placed his hands on Ushijima’s chest, gaining his courage to look at the older boy’s orbs.

“I’m attached, Ushijima... I cannot help myself, I am so sorry...”

Ushijima pulled Tooru closer, tenderly kissing both of his eyelids to wipe his tears out. Ushijima could feel Tooru leaned onto his palm, he rose both of his hands and placed them on to of Ushijima’s, and Ushijima knew that Tooru’s heart was even colder than both of his hands. Ushijima knew Tooru’s heart had been broken and he hide every little pieces so deep that even he himself couldn’t find them anymore. 

“Make love to me, Wakatoshi...” it sounded too desperate that Ushijima wanted Tooru to just shut up and kiss him. Ushijima would do just anything, anything to at least blow a cold breeze of wind against Tooru’s wounds to lessen the pain, “make the pain stop, I beg you.”

Ushijima didn’t know how much exactly Tooru was hurting, he didn’t even knew where did it hurt. The only thing he knew that Tooru hurts so much therefore he needed to beg someone else to take the pain away. Ushijima hated it when Tooru beg—even when they had sex, Ushijima didn’t want Tooru to beg. Ushijima wanted to give Tooru the world without he needed to ask for anything. 

He must have been crazy. He desperately in love with a human wreckage when he himself was no different. 

Tooru kissed Ushijima hard, biting his lower lip down strong enough to drew blood, but Ushijima let him anyway. Ushijima only needed seconds to unzip Tooru’s jeans and Tooru even helped to get rid of it. They didn’t bother to undress, Ushijima was still on his black wife beater and Tooru was still in his broken white sweater—Ushijima didn’t even have time to thoroughly open his sweatpants. Tooru was licking the inside of Ushijima’s mouth when he pushed one finger into him, but Ushijima didn’t miss those red blush on Tooru’s pale face. It was Ushijima’s favorite and honestly he would kill to be the only one who could see how mesmerizing it was.

Ushijima knew Tooru didn’t stop crying when he aligned his manhood against Tooru’s entrance. Ushijima gripped Tooru’s hips with his two strong hands, carefully not to hurt the fragile boy even more than he already was. He let Tooru kissed him desperately and he kissed back just as hard. Tooru’s breath was irregular when Ushijima began to thrust and bounce his body up and down. Ushijima could feel how badly Tooru wanted this—his grip on Ushijima’s hair was tight and firm, his kiss was passionate and strong. He breathed into Ushijima’s mouth, calling his name over and over again. 

Tooru always get exhausted easily but this time he didn’t even stop. He wrapped his legs around Ushijima’s hips, pushing his body up and down with all his might. Tooru tilted his head back allowing Ushijima to lick and suck on his neck, his hands wrapped around Ushijima’s neck, gripping and clawing hard trying to be steady. Tooru cried his name out repeatedly, making Ushijima thrust up even faster. Tooru looked down to kiss him again, but now he was too tired to bite as hard as before. Ushijima knew Tooru was close when his legs wrapped tighter, and seconds after, Tooru’s eyes rolled back, his breath hitched, and his body slumped down just when Ushijima growled into their kiss. Ushijima was consumed by his own orgasm but he didn’t miss the ‘I love you’s Tooru whispered repeatedly to their kisses.

And that moment, Ushijima knew Oikawa Tooru wasn’t even drunk.  
.  
.  
.  
Ushijima woke up in the middle of the night finding Tooru fast asleep beside him, naked with thin white blanket barely covered his body. Ushijima didn’t even realize how it’s night already, he didn’t even knew how much sex they had, and he also didn’t know that Tooru didn’t stop crying, even in his sleep.

I thought everything was just a nightmare and when I woke up it will be alright. But then I realize I also woke up to a nightmare. I cannot even differ them anymore.

Ushijima didn’t know Tooru well. He didn’t knew how many problems exactly Tooru was hiding inside his pretty little head. Ushijima wished he could overcome every problems that tugged so hard on Tooru’s heart, that made the boy cried in agony even when he’s unconscious. Dream was suppose to be the place where someone like Tooru could be free. He supposed to dream about sugars and rainbows, about laughter and happiness, because he would wake up into darkness and pains.

Ushijima sighed. Tooru stopped whimpering when Ushijima placed his palm on Tooru’s cheek and brush his stubborn eyebrow softly with his thumb. Tooru leaned to the warmth, searching for more as he hiccuped. Ushijima brush the strands of soft brown locks with his other hand, he was curious of what Tooru sees in his dream. At times when Tooru’s asleep like that, Ushijima always think about who possibly wanted to hurt such a delicate beauty. Why did such a young boy had so much sorrow, why should an innocent person went through so much pain that he needed to bleed in order to feel better?

World is such a cruel place. That is why an angel would hurt when he tried to fit in.

“Tooru...,”

“Hmm?” Still sleepy, Tooru snuggled closer to Ushijima’s body. He wasn’t entirely sleepy—he was trying to feel as much warmth his body could receive.

“I fell in love.” There’s no use to hide it anymore because Ushijima knew somewhere between their kisses, somewhere between their connected body, Tooru knew it already.

“With me?” and Ushijima only grunt as an answer.

Ushijima catched Tooru’s tiny smile, and god, it was beautiful. Ushijima wondered was he always drunk whenever Tooru smiled like that or Tooru was the one who never smiled like that before. He would give up his world to be able to paint those smile a little wider, a little longer. Ushijima would want to live with that smile forever, but forever is such a long time.

“Don’t.” He said, without opening his eyes. Ushijima frowned, but he ran his fingers through Tooru’s slightly long hair—damn, was it always that soft or it’s just Ushijima who never sober enough to feel it?

“Why?”

Tooru sighed. They were so close that Ushijima could feel Tooru’s breath on his neck, “because things that fell, gets broken.”

Ushijima didn’t answer but he didn’t stop playing with Tooru’s hair—it made the latter almost purred and he eventually gets calmer. Ushijima could have said that he wasn’t afraid to get broken because he already was, but he didn’t. He could have said that they both were equally broken and they could try to repair each other—but Ushijima then realized that they were human. They were not machine that could be repaired when it’s broken. When human’s heart gets broken, they went beyond repair—the heart broke into million little pieces, even in their case, it’s been shattered into ashes. 

Ushijima wanted to blow some sense to Tooru’s little head, to ask him to at least have some hope in order to keep living. Tooru’s body was too cold against his skin that Ushijima needed to wrap his hands around his fragile being. His breath was harsh against Ushijima’s neck, and he began to shiver—Ushijima had no idea whether from cold or another thing.

As Ushijima hugged Tooru’s body closer, he liked to think that Tooru was getting better. He wanted Tooru to get better and maybe they could live a less fucked up life together. Ushijima would never knew how to stop pains, but he could learn how to treat wounds. 

Ushijima was too tired when Tooru trembled hard in his embrace. All he did was hugging him closer and tighter just like what he used to do when Tooru came down from his high. Ushijima kissed Tooru’s forehead, wishing that the boy would get better through time. 

Ushijima thought Tooru was getting better, but as always, the world always spins against his will.

When Ushijima wake up, the boy in his embrace was too cold, and it took seconds for Ushijima to realize that there were no wind blew against his neck. Ushijima tried to shook Tooru, but he didn’t make any sound. 

Just when Ushijima thought Tooru was getting better, the next morning he didn’t even wake up.  
.  
.  
.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I still cannot find myself a beta reader.  
> Please bear with the english (please?) while I am trying to improve my writing and finding myself a beta reader.  
> I just really want to share this story with you guys because I need angsty!UshiOi and I cannot get enough supply so I wrote this myself
> 
> Thank you for understanding!


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